


Songbirds & Saline

by thisisle



Category: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Angst, Burns, Canon-Typical Violence, Concussions, Confusion, Don't Judge Me, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, My First Work in This Fandom, Other, Please Don't Hate Me, Whump, loved this scene SO MUCH, we also don't talk about my other WIPs, whumperflies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28578531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisle/pseuds/thisisle
Summary: So, I can't be the only one who thought we could have been given a little more whump in the scene after Snow and Lucy Gray get caught in the explosion in the arena!"I’ve tried, doctor. He hasn’t said much to me, and he hasn’t accepted the drink I’ve given him. I’ve tried three times already, unless he drinks I can’t take him off the IV, it’s the only thing giving him fluids right now." "I’m surprised. With as malnourished and thin as he is, I would have expected him to take the drink or ask for food. He probably doesn’t know what he wants with as bad as his concussion is. Has he allowed you to look at his burns?"
Relationships: Lucy Gray Baird/Coriolanus Snow, Sejanus Plinth/Coriolanus Snow
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We aren't going to mention that I left a fic unfinished before this thanks :) also this is my first fic for this fandom so uh.... don't kill me don't hate me pls and thank : )))) sorry for all the people that subscribed to me for prodigal son content I'll get back to it I promise <3
> 
> Also i'm not sure what pairing I'm doing yet so please don't flame me for having 2 of them in the tags bc I like both I just haven't decided if i want one or the other to be tied in to the fic, but it is going to be focused on whump regardless so I'll cross that bridge when I get there!
> 
> also i'm going to predict that I'm going to have like 10 hits on this and it's going to bring down my rep but it's whateva so if you see my account dying this is why this is the tik tok shadowban equivalent for AO3

This fic takes place during and after the bombing in the arena that took place mid-book. I think it was pages 140-145 but don’t hold me to it. 

Coriolanus barely registered things as they happened. It was his first instinct to lie on the ground, with one side of his face pressed to the ground. His hand covered what he could of the exposed half of his face. His muscles were already tensing in anticipation; uneasiness that would stick to him like a shadow for weeks to come was setting in. He managed to spot Lucy Gray, and told her to cover her face with the handkerchief he’d given her. While she did have her fingers over her ears, she somehow understood him. She did as instructed, thankfully. 

When Coriolanus thought it safe to lift his head, he was met with something hitting his head with incredible force, stunning him. He didn’t recall passing out, or how long he was unconscious, but he had to blink his eyes furiously a few times to recognize his surroundings upon coming to. He could barely hear anything, and as he moved his head around and tested movements of his arms, he felt numb. He felt like he’d had too many cups of posca, like he was intoxicated. But more pressing was the heat spreading across his back and to his neck. It was becoming uncomfortably hot, to the point where it was unbearable. 

He twisted to turn and see what was on him, to find a beam. His eyes widened, watching as flames danced along it, and they crossed the beam and onto his clothing. His back was on fire, literal fire, and now his neck, too. He cried out for help, trying to wriggle free of the heavy weight. The area in front of him was free and not on fire. He tried to crawl towards it, but to no avail. The beam on his back was heavy, and he was too uncoordinated and panicked to get it off him.

“Help!” he called again, not caring that his voice might not be steady anymore. He was utterly terrified down to his bones, not only from the bombing, but from the blazing heat melting at his skin. He now felt it singing his hair, and with a few shakes of his head, managed to put it out. However, his neck and back were still burning. He exclaimed one more time for help before he could make out the blurry shape of someone approaching. As they got closer, and he stayed still long enough for his eyes to focus, he recognized the person as Lucy Gray. He said her name, but she stood still, weight on one foot, the other poised in the air to run away from him. She was gazing at something, her eyes completely skipping over Coriolanus. 

“Lucy Gray!” He looked up to her, trying to motion at the beam positioned on his back. It was getting hard to breathe with the weight of it. She finally went to his side, lifting the beam. It only gave him seconds to move away, and it was not enough. The beam fell again, once more taking the wind out of him. He wheezed until it was lifted again, and he had enough time to squirm away. He quickly rolled, effectively eliminating the small flames that were on his back. He immediately winced at the pressure on the sensitive, burned skin. It left him gasping until Lucy Gray offered her hand, helping him up. 

The pair ran away, he with his arm wrapped around her for support. They made it safely away to a place where they finally collapsed. Coriolanus was spent and in pain seemingly all over. He lay on his stomach, hands curled in the ruffles of Lucy Gray’s rainbow dress. He could barely focus, and he felt as if his head were in a constant state of spinning. It seemed his stomach was, too. He was dangerously close into throwing up, but tried to take deep breaths to steady himself. 

He didn’t realize his hands were still balling Lucy Gray’s dress in his fists until he heard sounds of people approaching. He almost thought he heard the word _medic_ but he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Coriolanus hoped it were true because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on. He could feel himself slipping out of consciousness, and it would happen in minutes unless anyone came to their rescue. 

It was when he could no longer hold his head up, and when his forehead hit the ground that he could feel hands on him. He bristled almost immediately, until he saw the stretcher with the people around him. They were here to help him. He allowed it, holding back a shout when their hands touched the burned areas of his skin. He hissed in pain during the process of lifting him to the stretcher. They began to roll him away as soon as they had him positioned, despite his resistance. They left Lucy Gray there. 

_...male, severely underweight, malnourished…_

“Lucy Gray!” He tried to get the health care team to notice that she was still there instead of talking about him. But they didn’t hear him, or maybe he wasn’t sure he even said the words. Had he? He knew his head was hurting, and maybe he had misspoke. Maybe they didn’t understand him. He could barely understand himself. 

_...probable concussion, lateral dorsal and lower occipital burns…_

Coriolanus tried to sit up on the stretcher, pointing to his tribute. “You lef’ her there,” he slurred, words no longer being said correctly. But the people taking him to the ambulance put hands on his shoulders, and another on his forehead, effectively pushing him back down on the stretcher. Coriolanus could not bite back a whine of pain, one hand immediately reaching for the hurting area. His face contorted with pain and he was gasping for breaths. The people above him were exchanging words over him, as if he weren’t there. He tried to speak to them, but nothing more than a whimper came out. 

Attempting to focus on their faces was a battle Coriolanus was rapidly losing, just as the one with alertness. He could feel himself slowly fading from it. His eyes closed slowly, trying his best to rest his pained body. Sleep was just beginning to come to him, but the hands that were on him previously made contact again. They cupped his cheeks and shook his head, rousing to the point where his eyes were open. He stared wide eyed at his surroundings, vaguely aware of the sirens that their approach to the ambulance. 

His heartbeat sped into a faster beat, anxiety increasing. The people that were just above him were no longer there. He heard doors close. Was he being trapped somewhere? Did the rebels that plant the bomb finally take him? 

“Hey…” he tried, needing to get out of there. The sirens were loud, his vision was blurry, and the spinning sensation had not yet left his mind or stomach. Coriolanus’s concussion was already taking a hold of him, and the adrenaline was slowly leaving his body. The pain of the burns would soon set in when he realized the extent of the damage he sustained. 

“Hey…” he tried, needing to get out of there. The sirens were loud, his vision was blurry, and the spinning sensation had not yet left his mind or stomach. Coriolanus’s concussion was already taking a hold of him, and the adrenaline was slowly leaving his body. The pain of the burns would soon set in when he realized the extent of the damage he sustained. 

Just as Coriolanus attempted one more time at sitting up to figure out what was happening, the medical personnel returned to him. On his right, someone took his arm in theirs. Coriolanus tried to jerk it closer to himself, but he was met with resistance. He craned his head to watch as the gloved hands at his arm inserted a needle into the crook of his elbow. Coriolanus made an uneasy sound, moving his head away with a pained, agitated and unhappy look clear on his features. 

“You’ll be alright,” came the voice to his left. He didn’t realize someone was there. He slowly moved his gaze to look at them, unable to get much of an idea about them before they produced something slim from a pocket. He didn’t see what it was when the medic raised their other hand, placing it on Coriolanus’s head. He instinctively moved his head back, lying it flat on the stretcher. He knew they had tried to do this before, but instead, the hand coming for him rested on his forehead instead of pushing it, and pried open his eyelids wider. Had they been drooping? He didn’t notice. He was just so tired and sore. 

Suddenly, a bright light was being waved in front of his eyes. He quickly raised a hand to swat at it. As he made the motion, though, it caused the muscles underneath his burns to move. His body protested against the act, ripping the breath out of Coriolanus. He gasped and growled in pain before letting his arm fall to his side again. 

After that, the rest of the hospital ride was somewhat of a blur. There were only a few times that he could remember brief moments of clarity. Twice during the ambulance ride, once during the transition from the vehicle into the hospital, and again when he was under the blinding lights of a room inside of the hospital. The doctors and staff were assessing the damage done, and while concentration was incredibly difficult, there was no question that he was turned over so that the others could see the extent of the burns. He remembered struggling under their hands, face turning red with pain, breathlessness, and his fight to get out from under their touches. 

It was not long before he passed out after that, and the staff were able to finish their work. By the time Coriolanus woke next, he was in a hospital gown, and being wheeled somewhere. He gave quiet groans as his stretcher moved, watching the lights pass overhead. He could barely read the numbers on the doors as they went along, but he curled into himself, arms wrapped around his abdomen. He made keening noises as the pains and nauseousness passed through him. His brows were upturned in discomfort and mouth frowning in his miserableness. The nurse taking him to his room said something above his head, but he closed his eyes against her words, pressing his head into the stretcher.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ngl I was going to let this die until someone commented their interest, so this one's for you, Rogan_Chan3206 !

By the time Coriolanus had been situated in his new room, he didn’t even need a sedative to be knocked out. The pain had done that for him, in addition to the morphling drip he was now getting. There were multiple times that he had fought the IV in his arm, and after many repeated reasons why he should not attempt to rip it out, he seemed to get it. However, each time he came to, the memories of the evening were lost on his taxed brain. The staff that were on his case had picked up on the signs by now: first he stirred slightly, opened his eyes, tried to focus on something, felt something in his arm, reached to take it out, struggled because of the pain from the burns. Repeat. 

When he came to after being in the new room, Coriolanus began those actions again. He still found it hard to concentrate on anything, not even the ceiling above him. So he looked to his surroundings. He was in a dark room, and a glance out of the single window told him it was evening. Then his gaze lowered, finding tubes hanging from a machine. Following the tube, he saw that it was embedded in his arm. With a start, he moved in the bed, reaching out to get it out. It made his shoulders scream in agony, though, from the searing burns he’d endured. He gritted his teeth, almost wanting to cry.

Frustrated, he tried his best to settle in again. He kept his right arm, the one housing the IV, as far away from him as he could. He did not trust it, nor what was in it, or who put it there. He scowled, and looked up at the ceiling again as not to let the tears pooled in his eyes flow. His lip quivered as he tried to regain his composure. While he did, he tried his best to come up with a timeline of what happened. He had extra food that he planned to give to Lucy Gray… then he and the other mentors went to meet their tributes again… did they try to tour the arena? Were they going somewhere else? He didn’t know what happened between when he met Lucy Gray and when he was lying on the ground, preparing for the bombing.

Coriolanus couldn’t even remember what happened after the bombing. How did he get hurt? How did he get burned? Where was Lucy Gray? His frustration was becoming apparent, and it was hurting his head to think about it all. He closed his eyes, trying to get some amount of sleep. 

“Mr. Snow?” 

He buried his head further against the guard rail of his hospital bed. He was as far left as he could be in it, huddled against the side. His right arm was still lying limp and outstretched from him. Bending it would only give him more pain as he disturbed the IV nestled inside. 

“Mr. Snow?” The voice tried again, this time closer. 

Opening his eyes was a feat. It felt as if they were laden with weights. He just wanted to sleep. He acknowledged her existence for no more than a few seconds before closing his eyes again, wanting nothing more than to sleep. He didn’t realize he was in that state until the nurse came in calling his name. Couldn’t she see he just wanted to rest? 

“Mr. Snow, I have to take your vitals. It’s also imperative that you don’t fall asleep just yet.” 

She was close enough now that he could feel her hands on his arm. He immediately came to life, opening his eyes, and shifting his body. His bloodshot eyes held a wild look to them. His brows were drawn downward, portraying his confusion, wariness, and alarm. 

“I’m just checking your IV port. You, um,” her voice faltered and she cleared her throat as she adjusted the tape to his arm. “You have been trying to rip it out since you got here. We had to re-insert it three times already. I won’t be long, okay? Just want to get your vitals and then I can let you close your eyes for a little bit.” 

He watched her every move the whole time, not answering her. He didn’t know her, trust her, or feel the need to apologize. His thoughts were incoherent, how could he apologize for things he didn’t remember? 

“Alright. I’m just going to take your pulse now, temperature, and blood pressure. Is that okay?”

Coriolanus simply watched her. He gave no sign of refusal, which led the woman to continue. When she finished with the IV port, her arms trailed down the remaining length of his arm to his slender wrist. She pressed her first two fingers on his wrist, having to adjust them a few times until she could feel his bounding pulse against the blood vessels. She waited there, fingers unmoving from their spot, while she lifted her other wrist to keep her eyes on her watch. Coriolanus, upon seeing she was not a threat to him, lowered his head back down on the bed. He didn’t close his eyes, but glanced at her from underneath heavy lids.

“Don’t go to sleep just yet, Mr. Snow.” 

“‘m so tired,” was his only response. It was no higher than a whisper, serving as an indicator for his strength. It was sapped from him, as was most of his rational thought. He wished for it to stop so that he could get back to normal. 

“I know you are. I know. I’m almost done.” The sympathy was thick in her tone. She finished at his wrist, and took a moment to write down a few things in a tiny notebook she kept in her back pocket. Then she reached for a pen in her other pocket, but Coriolanus made a noise of despair when she brought it to his face. 

“Not this,” he pleaded. He knew what was coming. The bright light of the pen light against his eyes felt like invisible hands squeezing his brain. From there, it branched to a fresh wave of nausea, and then a lasting, pounding headache. 

“I have to, Mr. Snow. You know this.” She placed the pen in front of his eyes, flashing it to watch his pupil response. It was sluggish, and the pupils still dilated. Of course the nurse didn’t tell him this, but instead offered a lemon fizzy drink. 

“It will help you feel better,” she encouraged. “And it will help your complexion. You’re a little pale.” 

She motioned to his bedside table, where she left a drink for him. He looked back and forth between her and the drink. The mistrust was clear in his features, but the nurse did not urge him any further. Instead, she gave a curt nod and began to walk away. At the foot of his bed, however, she stopped and faced him, fingers toying with the bed frame. 

“I can talk to the doctor about allowing your family to visit, if you’d like. He will be in shortly so I can talk to him before he comes in, maybe convince him to ask if you'd enjoy company.” 

He looked at her and the small smile she gave and offered one back with a small nod. Any further and he would make his nausea worse. She seemed to take the small victory as her smile widened, then turning and exiting his room. The lights were dimmed and the door pulled shut quietly. Coriolanus breathed a sigh of relief. His brows creased and eyes closed as he tried to battle the sickening feeling that his head was giving him. He couldn’t focus with his eyes open or closed, and when the feeling wouldn’t stop, he tried to sit up. It wasn’t long before he felt himself listing to the side, reaching out instinctively for the guard rail before he fell. It left his heart racing and a panicked feeling. He had just begun his search for a call bell to ask for help in battling these feelings before he visibly perked up to the sound of voices outside his door. 

_I’ve tried, doctor. He hasn’t said much to me, and he hasn’t accepted the drink I’ve given him. I’ve tried three times already, unless he drinks I can’t take him off the IV, it’s the only thing giving him fluids right now._

_I’m surprised. With as malnourished and thin as he is, I would have expected him to take the drink or ask for food. He probably doesn’t know what he wants with as bad as his concussion is. Has he allowed you to look at his burns?_

_Not yet, no. He’s still got the dressings from the paramedics. He’s too agitated when he rouses and tries to rip out his IV. Today when I took vitals it was the only time I’ve seen him calm yet. I’m going to try again in a few hours to see if he’ll let me change the dressings. Poor guy._

Had he really tried to rip it out? Had he only been calm for the hospital staff once? He put his head in his hands, thoughts swimming too fast for him to understand. He could feel the cold saline against his skin as the tube was pressed between his forearm and shoulder from his movements. He could practically taste it, and tried to think about what the nurse said. What was it she said about having it removed? He had to do something… something… 

Drink. He lifted his head, and regretted how fast he did it. He groaned aloud at how painful a simple action could be. He pressed a hand to his abdomen, grimacing against how strong the nausea had become. With a quick glance around his hospital room, Coriolanus searched for what he needed most. Finally, he found it. The door to the bathroom. He stood on unsteady legs, grasping onto the IV port for balance. His first few steps were incredibly wobbly, and soon his vision began to impair him. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, and his vision was blackening at the edges. Shortly after, spots were dancing in and out of his sight. Lightheadedness soon followed, and his hand shot out to the bedside table.


End file.
